Vital Signs
by Teenwitch
Summary: There was still no one who could surprise him quite like Catherine Willows.


**Disclaimer:** CSI is the property of CBS, Alliance Atlantic, you know, all those bureaucratic ass… ahem. Yeah, not me.

**Summary: **There was still no one who could surprise him quite like Catherine Willows. Warrick/Catherine, 1994.

**Author's Note:** This is based roughly after the episode 'No Humans Involved'. Some of the information probably contradicts what is in the Companion Guide, but how much of that stuff is really accurate, anyway?

_Las Vegas, 1994_

If life was full of defining moments, then this was one of his. Warrick Brown strode into the Las Vegas crimelab without an ounce of the trepidation he was feeling showing on his face. To the bustling occupants of the lobby he was just another one of the nameless, faceless throng, and he unconsciously straightened his street jacket, wondering if by casual they had actually meant semi-formal as he studied the attire of several passing employees.

Struggling not to show how out of place he felt, he strode up to the receptionist's desk. A pretty brunette held her hand up to him, speaking politely into the headset at her ear. Warrick shifted, gaze drifting over the blue-lit laboratories behind her. This was the first day of the rest of his life. The day he would prove that the punk black kid from Sicamore could make something of himself, and wouldn't be going behind bars like so many of them expected him to. He would be on the other side of them.

"Excuse me? Yes, how can I help you?"

The receptionist's slightly impatient voice cut through his reverie and his eyes darted quickly towards her. "Uh, hi. I'm Warrick Brown. The new—"

"Ah, the new rookie CSI," she finished for him, eyes darting over him with newfound interest. She smiled with a little more compassion. "Actually, you can report to Gil Grissom. Mr. Brass is out in the field... just go down that hall to the office on the right. You can't miss it."

He nodded, returning the smile. "Thanks."

"Sure. Welcome to the Crimelab."

He nodded again, starting off in the direction she had pointed. He was momentarily slowed by silent awe as he gazed into the labs on either side of the hall. Nearly every wall was made of glass, which allowed him an easy view of everything going on. He paused in front of what he assumed was the DNA lab, where a young woman was focused intently, cutting swabs for DNA extraction. Warrick, who liked to think he was not easily surprised, found himself unwillingly enthralled. Before anyone caught him gawping in the hallway, he quickly continued towards Grissom's office, wanting to be punctual for the most important moment of his life so far.

The door was open, blinds craned open slightly so minute slivers of light filtered in the room. On cluttered shelves lining either side of the desk were an odd array of jarred specimens, and he forced his gaze away from them to the towering desk that occupied a great deal of the room. However, instead of the middle-aged, greying man he had visualized as Gil Grissom, there was a young, extremely attractive blonde woman, lounging casually back in the black leather chair. Her eyes idly scanned over the paperwork in her hands, obviously the first of what belonged to an accumulated pile on the desk before her.

She glanced up, hearing him halt uncertainly at the door, and he was struck with the most intense, beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. He swallowed, and she lifted her lips into a warm, kind smile, one that made him feel like he was about fifteen again, not twenty-four.

"Hi," she said calmly, with a lilt of questioning in her tone. There was something almost predatory in her gaze, and he guessed rather uncomfortably that she was well experienced in dealing with men for her age, which wouldn't be more than thirty.

"Hi," he replied, more uncertainly. He stepped back as if to check for a nameplate beside the door. "I'm not sure if I have the right office."

A new, more amused grin took up residence on her face, and he decided she wasn't just attractive, she was damn gorgeous. _Geez man, you're not even ten minutes on the job..._

"If you're looking for Gil, this is his office," she told him, leaning forward in the chair and lowering the papers. She rose to her feet. "As you can see, he's not very fond of paperwork. I was just doing a bit for him. I'm guessing that you're Warrick Brown."

He lifted an eyebrow, and found himself smiling too. "Yeah, uh, that obvious it's my first day, huh?"

"Little bit." She rounded the desk, smiling with a catlike gleam in her eyes. "Sorry I'm not what you're looking for. Grissom's a little, can we say, distractible. If he didn't have such a high IQ I'd swear he had attention deficit issues." She extended a well manicured hand. "I'm Catherine Willows. Looks like we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other."

He found himself unwillingly drawn to her. He accepted her hand, his own dark callused one causing a delicious friction against her smooth white one. "Nice to meet you." They stared at each a little too long, until a voice from the hallway broke the moment.

"Oh, I knew as soon as I stepped away he would get here."

Warrick released Catherine's hand, glancing around as the man he assumed to be Gil Grissom strode into the room. He wasn't how Warrick had envisaged him. He only looked like he was in his late thirties, with dark brown, curly hair and friendly blue eyes in his chiselled features. Catherine shot him a look, leaning back against his desk with a casualness that was a little too easy between an employee and her superior. He wondered if they encouraged that sort of ease here, or whether they had some deeper relationship. He felt a vague, irrational stab of jealousy and wondered where the hell that came from, considering he'd only just met both of them.

"And what does that tell you?" she asked pointedly.

Grissom gave Warrick an easy smile. "As you can see, Catherine is under the illusion that she runs things here."

Warrick found himself smiling again. There was something instantly trustworthy about him.

"I'm Gil Grissom, which I'm sure you've already gathered. Welcome to the lab."

"Thanks. I guess you already know who I am."

Grissom nodded. "Jim Brass is the supervisor, but he's in the field with our other CSI, Harrison Sutton.

'Asshole,' Catherine mouthed behind Grissom's back.

Warrick resisted a laugh. Grissom went on. "You'll meet them later. Until they get back we won't have your first assignment so you might want to familiarise yourself with the lab until then. Feel free to wander around."

Catherine rolled her eyes, straightening from the desk. "Come on, Warrick, I'll give you the tour."

Warrick glanced back at Grissom. "Thanks for this, Mr. Grissom."

Grissom smiled. "Call me Grissom, please. I read your transcripts. I'm impressed. I think you'll fit in well here."

"That's a big compliment for him," Catherine offered casually.

Grissom sighed. "Goodbye, Catherine."

"Do your paperwork," she admonished him. "Or you'll have Cavallo on your ass." She closed the door, turning to a slightly bemused Warrick in the hall. She saw his expression. "Cavallo's the assistant director," she explained, as she started walking. He followed her, but she seemed in no hurry to pick up the pace, unlike many busy workers around her.

It was obvious in every way she carried herself that she didn't give a damn what anyone else thought. He admired that. "He's a fine example of an asshole himself," she went on, unconsciously trusting him fully with her candid opinions on those above her. She definitely had guts, he'd give her that. "He just got promoted and he loves letting everyone know who's top dog around here. Now, you can please yourself, but I'd be happy to give you the basic 411 on everyone around here. I find learning things firsthand is often very deceiving. But that's just me."

Warrick smirked. "I'd be interested to hear your opinions."

She gave him a sideward glance. "You're a hard one to figure out, you know that?"

They kept going down the hall. He found himself frowning. "I am?"

"Yeah. You come in here looking like you stepped out of the hood, but I read your transcripts too. You're a pretty smart guy."

He didn't know whether to complimented or not. "Okay, thanks, I think."

She stepped into a nearby lab. "Trust me, it's a good thing. I don't think I can handle another Ivy League graduate around here."

The lab was empty, and she gestured around. "Print lab. The tech on nights right now is Jacqui Franco. She must've just stepped out. She's only new here herself, so you two might get along well".

He took it in, impressed. "You know, I heard Las Vegas is the second best lab in the country."

She smiled slightly. "Grissom is definitely going to like you."

They left the lab again, striding slowly down the hall as Catherine pointed out the various labs and gave him a basic description of every lab tech. She definitely made up for the fact that she was the only woman on shift with gossip.

She ended their little tour by leading him into the breakroom. "Our home away from home," she confided. She strode for the counter, retrieving two mugs. "The coffee sucks though." She poured him some, grimacing herself as she sipped her own, and slid it to him across the table.

Warrick studied it for a moment. "You know, you haven't told me anything about the other CSIs yet, besides the fact that Harrison is an asshole."

She smiled idly, reclining in her chair. "Well, I thought I'd leave that up to you. I want to test your investigative skills. You game?"

He found himself genuinely wanting to please her, but he also wanted to prove his worth. Here was his shot.

"Shoot."

"Okay." She pursed her lips. "Tell me what you think about Grissom."

He swallowed, feeling slightly disrespectful analysing the senior CSI's life behind his back. "All right", he started hesitantly. "He doesn't have a wedding ring or any pictures in his office, so I'd say he's single. Probably by choice. You already told me he's smart but doesn't like paperwork, so he probably loves his job without the extra baggage."

Catherine's green eyes sparkled in delight. "Very impressive. Observant. What about me?"

He shifted, gazing her over uncomfortably. He had spent more time in her company, but she was more difficult to pin down. "Okay. Uh… I'd say you're from Vegas, or at least lived here a while. You seem like not much would surprise you. I don't know if you're single or not, but you seem like you might have kids. And I think you like your job too, but you're a little more open-minded about it than Grissom."

She smiled, this time more impressed, but secretive, like he hadn't figured out everything. "Not bad. I'm married, for the record."

He could barely hide his disappointment. "You're not wearing a wedding ring."

"It's dangerous at work. We wear latex gloves most of the time."

He didn't think that was the reason, but he let it go. "So I was right about kids?"

She nodded, maternal glow unmistakable. "A daughter, Lindsey. She's two."

She started to get up, noticing movement in the hallway. "Good try though. I think you might just last the week. Oh, and you were still right about Grissom."

He glanced up, realising the two remaining CSIs had arrived. He drew in a deep breath, remembering how much more he had to get through before he would have truly proved himself. It was difficult, but he pushed Catherine Willows to the back of his mind.

00000000

He had expected the job to be difficult. What he hadn't expected was that it would be the people he had to deal with more than the skill involved. Catherine's description of Harrison Sutton was more than accurate. He discovered all too quickly that he was a Harvard graduate and superior as all hell. It didn't help that his solve rate was almost above reproach.

Jim Brass, on the other hand, was a weathered ex-cop who had seen more than his fair share. He led the unit with a heavy hand and rarely exhibited any sympathy if they had a case too tough for them to handle. But Warrick found himself respecting him.

All too often on the receiving end of unwelcome pity for his home circumstances or past, he found he respected nothing more than being treated as an equal and fully capable, when his tragic history may once have granted him exception.

Likewise, he found himself admiring Grissom, but for different reasons. Grissom was teaching him. The more he got to know him, the more he respected his unique quirks and spur of the moment insights and quotes. In turn, he could see Grissom genuinely enjoyed imparting his knowledge on someone new and green to the field.

Warrick also learnt more about his relationship with Catherine. He realised the rapport he had witnessed between them on his first day was the easy bond of two old friends. Grissom had introduced Catherine into forensics and— to Warrick's surprise at the time— away from a life as an exotic dancer. He had to say it explained a lot about her. Her bold confidence and world weary attitude. He also found himself increasingly... attracted to her, which he knew was ridiculous, because she was married with a kid. Despite that somewhat hidden magnetism, he found out of all of them, Catherine was the one he got along with best.

He sensed she also enjoyed having another friend on shift, someone perhaps a little more like her than Grissom was. He tried to ignore his attraction for her and focus on his new job and their friendship. That was all it could ever be.

He'd never imagined he'd find forensics so rewarding. The sense of closure he got, when they put someone away and allowed grieving friends and family some measure of comfort for the crimes that had been committed against them. He felt like his life had some sort of... purpose. One of his first cases was an apparent suicide, with Grissom and Catherine. He felt Catherine's eyes on him when he was bent on the road outside the residence, taking overall of tyre treads burnt into the bitumen. He glanced up, frowning slightly. "What?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just kind of impressed. You pick this stuff up pretty quickly. Grissom didn't even have to tell you to come out here."

Warrick shrugged, caught off-guard by the unexpected compliment. He wondered at the way she was watching him.

"Thanks."

She shrugged again. "No problem."

He got the feeling Catherine wasn't very happy in her marriage. She'd often come to work in a melancholy mood, or more often, a snappy one, which she usually took out on Harrison, a more than deserving target. But a few months working together convinced Warrick Grissom knew more about the situation than he was saying. Despite what Catherine thought, the entomologist was a pretty perceptive guy. When Catherine went on the same as always, moods constantly shifting, putting on a falsely happy countenance whenever anyone looked like they might ask her if she was okay, Warrick realised Grissom was never going to say anything. He felt kind of disappointed in him for that.

One afternoon, after they had been working a double shift, Warrick found Catherine in the parking lot, pacing irritably up and down the sidewalk. He paused, hand in his jeans pocket for his keys, approaching her hesitantly. "Hey Cath. What's up?"

She glanced at him, sighing in exasperation. He realised he was one of the few people Catherine ever let her guard down in front of, even if it was only partially.

"Eddie was supposed to pick me up. He was supposed to be here forty minutes ago. And here I actually felt guilty for getting out late."

Warrick pursed his lips, studying her uncertainly. "You, uh, want a ride?"

Catherine paused, considering him briefly. "It's okay, Warrick, you don't have to..."

"Come on," he interrupted gently, nodding for his car.

A smile graced her features, and he enjoyed seeing it directed at him. "Thanks."

He opened the passenger door for her, realising that despite her confidence indicating the contrary, she had a lot of trouble trusting men. Probably a lot to do with her less than reliable husband. He allowed her to give him directions and they settled into comfortable silence. He turned on the stereo, and soft jazz music filtered the quiet interior.

Catherine closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the leather headrest. "You have good taste in music. What is this?"

"Joe Williams", he answered. "I actually DJ at a club off the Strip sometimes for kicks."

She slanted a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "You're very versatile, aren't you?"

He shrugged, turning into the next lane as he kept his gaze fixed on the road. "I've held down a lot of jobs over the years. I had to be."

She shifted down, making herself comfortable. "How come?"

He glanced at her. "My mom died when I was a kid. I never met my dad. It was just me and my grandmother. She was good to me, but I had to look out for myself."

She nodded, still closing her eyes. ""We're not so different, you know that?"

He studied her a little more closely, deciding to risk a burning question. "What's the deal with you and Eddie? I mean, it seems like you're not that happy. Why do you... stay with him?"

Catherine lifted her head as he finished his question, and she was eyeing him with a quiet intensity. It sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine and he wondered if he'd overstepped his bounds.

"You never met your father," she said at last, quietly. The music had taken on a haunting quality, and it only made the intensity of the moment more pronounced. "So you know what it's like... to grow up without one. Lindsey is two years old. She doesn't deserve that."

She leant back again, firmly closing her eyes. Warrick sighed, returning his focus to the road. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

She reached across, and patted his knee. The touch was almost electric. It sent goose pimples through his flesh, even through his jeans. He wondered if Catherine felt it as she pulled away, or if he just imagined the things between them.

"It's okay, Warrick," she said gently. "Besides, things aren't always bad. Every marriage has their ups and downs. Mine, maybe more than some." She gestured to a house as he started to slow down her street. "That's me."

He pulled over, and she paused with her hand on the door, handbag in her lap.

"You're a good guy, Warrick. Don't ever change, okay?"

He frowned slightly, watching her as she manoeuvred around a small swing set, towards the front door. She disappeared inside, and he sighed, turning back to the road.

He had yet another reason to admire Catherine Willows, but he wasn't sure if it was a good thing.

000000

The lab was quiet for the first time in months, and Brass was in a semi-good mood and agreed to let Warrick go home early. He thoughts he was growing on the boss, not that he'd ever admit it. Catherine was already on her night off, and Grissom was taking some seminars in San Francisco, so he was only too glad to call it a night.

He switched on the light to his apartment, tossing his keys on the counter as he peeled off his jacket. He drew the blinds, so the lights from the distant Strip were darkened. He briefly considered hitting the casinos, playing some blackjack, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He was already starting to do that too frequently.

He opened the fridge, retrieving a beer. There was nothing he wanted to do more right now than sit back and savour his time.

He had just decided this when he heard a knock at the door. He glanced at the wall clock with a frown. Three am. Vegas didn't really care what time it was, but he couldn't think of any friends who would be out to get him at this time.

Sighing, he crossed the living room and pulled off the chain, craning to open the door. He couldn't say shock would correctly describe what he felt when he saw Catherine on the other side, cradling a sleeping Lindsey and nursing a black eye.

He threw the door open wide, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Jesus, Catherine, what the hell—?"

"Shh," she whispered, nodding down at her daughter.

Warrick took her by the shoulder, tugging her inside. She blinked at him, obviously struggling to hold back tears. "I'm sorry, I just didn't know where else..."

He shook his head. "Here, you wanna put her on the sofa?"

She nodded, still blinking furiously, and gently lowered Lindsey's sleeping form to the sofa, arranging a pillow under her head. Warrick retrieved a blanket from the back of his armchair, lowering it over her. Catherine absently swiped a loose strand of hair from her tiny face, bending to kiss her forehead gently before she straightened away from her. Warrick gestured to the neighbouring sofa, and she slumped down into it, running a hand hastily over her cheeks. Warrick crouched forward on the coffee table opposite her, eyes trailing over her worriedly.

"What happened?"

Catherine drew in a deep, shaky breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Eddie. We got in a fight. He hit me, so I got the hell out of there. God, Warrick, he's never done that. We've had our blow outs, but... I mean, what was I thinking? I can't raise a kid around that. I'm leaving Ed. I have to."

He closed his eyes, licking his lips. "Man, Cath, you scared the hell out of me. Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I think so. I... oh I don't know. This is _not _how I imagined my life turning out, you know?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do."

Tears started streaming down her face, and she frantically started wiping them away.

"Warrick, what am I going to do?"

He was overcome with an intense feeling of protectiveness and he instinctively reached forward and wrapped her in his arms. Catherine sagged against him, burying her face in the hollow of his neck as the tears broke free, and she sobbed quietly against him. He stroked a hand comfortingly over her hair, uttering senseless murmurs of comfort and she clutched the front of his shirt. He wondered how much torment it took to break down such a strong woman. Slowly, her sobs subsided and he realised he had moved them back on the couch, and she was huddled against him warmly.

She sniffed, not moving against him.

"It's okay," he whispered softly.

She leant against his shoulder, closing her eyes. "Don't move, okay?" she said softly, shifting against him. "Just... stay like this."

He silently obeyed, feeling her exhausted frame relax against him and her breathing slow. As she drifted off, he savoured her nearness, the soft feminine smell of vanilla, her warmth seeping into him, and the fine softness of her blonde hair against his cheek, all the while wondering if she had come to him because Grissom was out of town, or if she really wanted him.

0000000

_Las Vegas, 2004_

Warrick glanced up at his supervisor as he lowered the camera around his neck, where she stood across the crime scene, talking animatedly to the detective on duty.

As it turned out, she hadn't left Eddie that night. He had charmed her back with the promise they would be a family, and Warrick got his fist glimpse of Catherine's weakness— the yearning for security. He couldn't fault her for it, but he inwardly wished she had let him be the one to give it to her. It was years later that she finally saw him for what he was, and realised what everyone else had known already— that Eddie Willows was cheating on her. Grissom had known it for a long time, and it wasn't long that Warrick realised it too. He understood Grissom's dilemma for the first time— how could he knowingly be the one to break Catherine's heart and destroy the sense of security she had? It took a strong man to stand by and do nothing, the same time Warrick thought himself a coward.

After that night, he often wondered if he had been Catherine's second choice. He sometimes thought maybe that was why Catherine resented Sara so much, because Grissom had been meeting her while he was away at San Francisco. His insecurities nibbled away at him for years, until he just stopped pretending. Nothing had happened between he and Catherine, and it never would. Now she was his boss, and even more boundaries stood between them.

"Hey, Warrick?"

He blinked, realising he hadn't heard her come up behind him. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said how're you doing here?" Catherine repeated, looking slightly amused. "You look like you zoned."

He shrugged. "Uh, yeah, I guess I did."

She sighed, taking in his slightly frosty demeanour. "What were you thinking about?"

He titled his shoulder, unwinding the camera from his neck. "The past. My first day at CSI."

A wistful smile pulled at her face. "God. That was a lifetime ago."

He looked away, starting towards his kit. "Yeah."

"Warrick," the soft tone of her voice stopped him. That and her hand on his arm.

He glanced around slowly to look at her. The dark backyard they were processing was almost empty, and she was focused on him with an unusual amount of intensity.

"I don't want things to be like this."

He cocked his head, slightly curious despite himself. "Like what?"

"Like... _this_," she waved between them impatiently. "Strained. Like we can't talk to each other anymore. We're friends, Warrick, before we're boss and employee."

He pursed his lips slightly. "Friends," he repeated, barely above a mutter.

Catherine titled her chin to gaze up at him. She swallowed, and he saw something in her gaze he'd never hoped he'd see. "And maybe... something else too," she said quietly.

He frowned. "Cath..."

"You know something?" she said bluntly. "Unrequited love? That's Gil and Sara's crap. We're not like them."

"No," he agreed with a short laugh. "We're not."

She took a step closer to him, hand running briefly up his arm. "I may be new at this boss/workplace etiquette thing. But even I know there isn't the place for this conversation. All I know is... we've done this dance long enough."

Before he could react, she leant forward and pressed her lips over his, a short intense kiss that barely conveyed the mingling emotions charging between them for years. Catherine quickly stepped back, a small, satisfied smile on her face, and Warrick stared down at her, unable to communicate the flurry of sensations running through him.

"We'll talk about this after shift," she said, smoothly, like there had barely been a break in their conversation. She touched him on the arm again, briefly, leaning into his ear.

"Don't be late."

Then she strode past him, leaving a rush of warmth in his gut, and a slow, disbelieving smile pulling at his lips.

There was still no one who could surprise him quite like Catherine Willows.

**Fin**


End file.
